Stocking Pages, Stacks

Was going to force mySelf to write an article during this Lit Lunch, for 1Stop.  But,  that’s not journalism.  I want my journalistic practice to exclusively involve pieces written in the moment.  And, as it may shock you readers familiar with my form, little-to-no opinion.  I’ll convey accounts, realities, the occurrences.  Like Dan Rather, Ted Koppel, Cronkite.  I want to be on-scene, taking my notes.  All I want to do: inform, credibly.  To rush a piece here, at my usual Roasting Co table, would be anything but.

Collecting stand-alone’s for recital.  Haven’t written this much spoken word, in such spans short, in probably over a year.  When I feared time, once, how its pebbled moments were blown by me routinely, now I have a weapon.  The short piece, whether rimed or regularly lined.  Visiting a winery in a couple hours.  Excited to be out in this cold setting.  Still rather firm, these lower temperatures.  This morning, when I landed in Napa, 20 degrees.  Reminds me of Sunriver, the only aggressive cold I’ve been exposed to for prolonged points.

Novel, not out of my head.  Keeping it in there, to take up all the air.  This bottled auxiliary may be the second paper stack in there.  I’m hoping, shopping for ideas…  One of the employees, a young man, sprays down some plates, shelves in a small fridge to my left, wipes it determinedly.  Surprised by his focus.  Why?  Maybe I’m not being fair, saying that.  Maybe he’s a dedicated employee as I’d like to consider mySelf a devoted author; not the most focused, in terms of project completion, but, still, visibly engaged in the process.  And isn’t there a quote that reads something to the set of ‘art isn’t he finished product but the process’?  Let’s say there is, then this is art, this consciousness brook I’ve been perpetuating for years.  15, since Mr. Sullivan’s Creative Writing class.

Still haven’t proofed that page I printed the other night.  Think it’s in my bag.  Afraid to read it.  Why?  Are winemakers afraid to taste their projects’ processes?  No.  They have to do it, otherwise no bottles released.  No money made.  No feed.  Taking it out, but first let me wade in that correlation for a bit.  Bottled Ox, stumped …

Criticisms of the last wine blog.  My character, wanting to be a WRITER, not a blogger, much less a droning “wine blogger.” The character, also tying and untying his reality as one in the academic world atop the hospitality rep’s post.  One page, why did it take me so long to read this?  Can’t be afraid of finding portions in need of augment.  That will kill my writing pursuits, all of them.  And, I edited through my silly “wine blog” posts when I wrote them, before they were posted, so why such angst with paper?  I have more respect for the printed page than screen, the mouse-clicking, so where’s the sense in my stalls?  Didn’t have a drop of wine last night.  Could replace this mocha on right with a garrison of full Sonoma County Merlot glasses.

[1/17/12 – T]